


Have Yourself a Merry Fucking Christmas

by TheScholarlyStrumpet (equipoise)



Series: Complications That were Not in the Fucking Diary [2]
Category: Doctor Who (2005), The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: F/M, clara oswald x malcolm tucker, malcolm tucker x clara oswald
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 22:58:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2790824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/equipoise/pseuds/TheScholarlyStrumpet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>He grinned wolfishly and pointed above her head "Mistletoe." </i><br/><i>She followed the line of his gaze. "It's holly."</i><br/><i>"Still fuckin' kissing you" he shrugged, closing the distance between them in two long strides. <i></i></i><br/> <br/>The one-shot that launched  the PA Verse ;-)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Have Yourself a Merry Fucking Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> As stated in the Summary, Clara is Malcolm's PA. At this point, they have a pre-existing sexual relationship. I've had this Verse in my head a while and even though the rest is mostly unwritten, I really wanted to share this part in time for the Holidays :-)

"Fine, but don't expect me to come round for New Years, then!"

Clara ended the call forcefully with one thumb. Sometimes she missed the drama of being able to slam it down on a receiver for emphasis. 

"Personal calls on my time? Now, you of all people know fuckin better." Malcolm's gravelly tones vibrated against the shell of her ear.

Clara started with surprise and covered it badly. She turned at the waist to face him.

He was bent over behind her, one hand gripping the back of her chair. He straightened, looking at her expectantly. 

Of course she hadn't heard him approach. She could swear the man was part cat. 

"Sorry, Malcolm. I've told my dad not to call during work hours and he never does. So, when he rang, I thought it might be an emergency." Her shoulders slumped. 

"Not an emergency, I take it?" His demeanor gentled at the stricken look on her face. 

"Only if you count the absolute death of my childhood as an emergency." She sighed. "Dad has decided to cancel Christmas because his new... 'lady friend' wants to go on a cruise." She made a noise of disgust. "Stupid bint."

"Ah."

Clara glanced back up but Malcolm was looking away, lost in thought. He had probably already moved past her silly problems. After all, he had a whole country to run. What was her little familial melodrama to him? 

Even if they had been sleeping together on the sly for a few months, she wasn't expecting him to suddenly turn into a boyfriend. She'd probably lose interest if he did. And what that said about her, she just didn't have the energy to explore, right now. 

He glanced back down at her. "As fuckin fascinating as I am to look at, don't you have emails to send?"

Clara nodded, eyes suddenly burning with tears she was too stubborn to shed. She turned back to her computer and glared at the screen. 

Malcolm's mobile rang and he ambled away, releasing a stream of colorful invective.

A few hours later, Clara was feeling a little more herself, again. Christmas was just another day, after all. For all she knew, they'd be working. 

Malcolm called her in for his third or fourth coffee of the day and gestured for her to wait as he finished his phone call. 

When the shouting and pacing was done, Malcolm turned to her with a hesitant half smile. It was a kind of tender shyness that looked entirely out of place on his stark features. She had only seen it once or twice before, when she woke up before he did after a night of passion. In those precious, unguarded moments between sleeping and waking, he smiled at her just like that. 

Workplace Malcolm never wore that face. 

There was an unexpected lump in her throat and she pushed it away. "Did you need anything else, Malcolm?"

"Your Christmas plans are pretty much fucked, yeah?"

And just like that, the moment was gone and Clara felt herself back on solid ground. He just wanted to ask her to work on Christmas. She pressed her lips together in a grim expression. "Yeah. You could say that."

He nodded. "How would you like to come with me to Leeds?"

She looked at him quizzically. "What's in Leeds?"

"My mum. I spend Christmas there when I can get away for it." His tone was so matter-of-fact, they could have been discussing the weather. But there was real concern in his eyes when he added. "You shouldn't have to be alone for the holiday unless you fucking want to be."

Too stunned to quite make sense of this turn of events, Clara suddenly realized she knew nothing about his family. Besides the fact there was a niece who sent him drawings that he proudly posted in his office. Which she resolutely did _not_ find charmingly adorable. "Is your whole family there? I thought you were from the Glasgow area?"

"Mum was originally from Leeds and moved back after my father died."

"Oh, I'm sorry." She hadn’t even known his father was deceased.

He shrugged stiffly. "Me too, since it means I have to go to fuckin Leeds once a year." Malcolm made jokes when he was tense or uncomfortable.

Clara neatly tucked away the fact he obviously did not want to discuss his father for closer examination another time.

He crossed his arms. "Well?"

"Will your mum mind very much? I don't want to impose...." She was stalling for time to decide and she was certain he knew it. 

"May not even notice, really. She's not as sharp as she once was. I could sneak you in. Tell her you’re her fucking day nurse. Batty as she is, she won't know the fuckin’ difference."

“Oh…”

His mouth twisted in a way that belied his previously sincere tone.

Her eyes narrowed at him. "You're having me on." She accused good-humoredly.

"I am." He admitted. "I already called her. She said to bring whoever I like. Unless it's Jamie."

Clara grinned at that. Jamie MacDonald hadn't worked in the office in years but she knew him by reputation. "Ok. I'll go."

"Good. I've already emailed you the itinerary and your ticket information." He slid behind his desk. 

Clara wanted to be outraged but she knew him too well by now. Besides, he looked so smug already it would only have fed the beast. Instead, she rounded his desk and placed a hand in his shoulder. He looked up, clearly surprised at that reaction. 

They never allowed themselves intimate gestures in the office - too many security cameras. A squeeze to the shoulder was safe enough but still, she hoped, said more than her words could. 

He seemed to read her meaning and there was a ghost of that tender smile from earlier. As if on cue, the phone rang. Malcolm's expression closed off again and he jerked his head toward the door. "Back to work with ye’. I don't pay you to stand 'round fuckin fondling my suit. I can get that on a street corner."

Fighting a rising urge to kiss him, (CCTV be damned!) Clara rolled her eyes. 

He shooed her out with a wink. 

****

A few days later, they were standing on the porch after Christmas dinner. Malcolm had just finished a phone call with a particularly inventive suggestion about the way in which the Minister of Finance might like to spend the holidays with his dead mother. 

Clara finished up the notes she'd been taking and noticed he was watching her oddly. "What?"

He grinned wolfishly and pointed above her head "Mistletoe." 

She followed the line of his gaze. "It's holly."

"Still fuckin' kissing you" he shrugged, closing the distance between them in two long strides. 

"Thanks for the warning." She teased. 

He leaned down and captured her mouth, walking them backward until she felt her back hit the wall behind her. Crowded by his larger frame, warmth flooded through her body despite the chill in the air. He teased her lips apart, exploring her with slow deliberate strokes. Each flick of his tongue made her squirm against him, needing to feel him apply those oral skills much lower on her body. She knew he was doing it on purpose. The bastard. 

She pulled away, breathless and flushed. "Your mum might see us."

"Nah. She's nearly blind, poor dear" he smirked down at her, absentmindedly brushing an errant hair off her cheek and tucking it behind her ear.  

She scoffed "Yeah, just like she's nearly out of her wits, right? Honestly, I don't think I've ever met a sharper octogenarian in my life. If that's her witless, I'm halfway to the madhouse, myself."

"You'll brook no argument from me." He murmured. 

 She cuffed him playfully on the shoulder. 

He gave a crooked grin that made her heart lurch in her chest. "Well, you did go to bed with me. And agree to let me take you to Leeds for Christmas. And you're still here, kissing me under the fucking mistletoe. If that's not a testament to fuckin’ madness, I don't know what is."

Clara was prepared to argue but just then, he insinuated one long, lean thigh between her legs. Applying pressure exactly where she needed it most. 

"It's fucking holly." she gasped, grabbing the lapels of his jacket to pull him in for another searing kiss. 


End file.
